Cop
by Potterworm
Summary: The questionable steps Abby took to stop the investigation against her brother, Richie, for shooting that teenager surprised everyone - including her family. AU. Set months after 1x2 Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Against the Wall._

**Summary: **An 'Against the Wall' fanfiction. For Abby, she thought her job in Internal Affairs was important, but in the end, clearing Richie, her brother, of unjustly shooting that teenager mattered more. The questionable steps she took to stop the investigation against him surprised everyone, including her family. set several months post 1x2 'Raindrops Keep Fallin' on My Head'

**Author's Note: **I'm rather enjoying the brand new show, _Against the Wall, _but I believe that it really needs to up the volume a bit. Right now, it seems too lighthearted, considering its concept. The preview for next week's episode gave me the idea for this, though I'm certain that I'm completely misinterpreting it. Oh well. I always like to put a good Law and Order spin on things. Also, on a side note, it's pretty cool to write the first fanfiction for a show. But I never realized just how difficult it is to write a fanfiction when the web has very little knowledge on the show. I couldn't look up a lot of people's names. It was quite the challenge.

/

**Cop **

/

**Chapter One**

"Abby," Richie called out.

She continued her quick stride, jerking her head in a motion that indicated for him to follow her. She pulled her trench coat tight around her waist, tying it so tightly that she could barely breathe. It was a long walk out of the Internal Affairs building, and she made the walk entirely in silence, listening to Richie's footsteps next to her.

"Abby, are you okay?" he said in a quiet murmur, once they were on the sidewalk outside.

"I'm fine," Abby said, looking out at the street and debating calling for a cab.

"Because Dad heard that you were being investigated," he continued, his voice rushed and the words all tumbling over each other. He sounded incredulous in a way, and when she nodded sharply, he sucked in a breath. "Man, who investigates Internal Affairs?" He let out half a laugh, before she squashed it with a _look. _"Look, whatever it is, I'm sure that they'll clear you. What is it that you're always saying? I.A. clears innocent cops; well, you're innocent, so they're going to clear you. Even the bastards in I.A. must have some loyalty towards their own, right?"

She didn't answer, and he repeated, "_Right, _Abby?"

She raised a hand, and a bright yellow taxicab screeched to the curb in front of them. Getting in the cab, she turned to Richie and said, "Right, Richie. If I was innocent, I.A. would clear me."

The cab drove away, and Abby stared forward. She couldn't bare to look for Richie's face.

/

A week later, and there was a phone call. Abby rolled over in bed, answering the phone, "Kowalski," automatically, before she remembered that she was suspended from the force, so this wouldn't be a case.

"Abby," her mother said.

"Mom," she said, grappling in the dark, before her hands found the light switch. She sought the alarm clock. Five in the morning. "What's wrong?" A phone call this early in the morning meant disaster to a daughter and sister of cops.

"Why didn't you tell me?" her mother demanded.

Abby sat up in bed. "_What? _Mom, it's five am. What's _wrong?" _

"Your _job, _Abby! Why didn't you tell me that you had been suspended?"

Abby groaned and threw herself back down into her pillow. "How did you find out?" She ran through the list of people who knew, and then realized that it was _everyone _in her own department. Loyalty towards their own didn't stop water-cooler gossip about the newest in the long line of dirty cops.

"People _talk, _Abby. Someone at work told your father, and he tried to hide it from me." That sounded like him, Abby realized. "But I found out, and what I don't understand is _why _you wouldn't tell me. You know you'll be cleared soon enough, but you must be having a hard time."

"Mom," Abby said.

"And I just assumed that you would want to _talk _to me."

"Mom, it's a police investigation. You know that I can't share details." It was a spiel that her mother had to have heard a dozen times over the years.

But this time, it wasn't enough. "You're not the investigator here, Abby," her mother said after a brief pause. "Talk to me."

"I'm being investigated."

Her mother let out a soft cry. "For _what?_"

But that was something Abby couldn't - wouldn't - share with her family. "Mom," she said quietly, "it's early. I'm going back to bed."

"Fine."

And that was that.

/

Only that wasn't that. Abby had no idea why she thought her mother would drop the topic permanently. "Abby's being investigated," her mother said, a week later.

There was the end of a semi-peaceful family Sunday dinner. It had been a long time since Kowalski family dinners had been comfortable, but Abby had gradually been invited back to them a few weeks ago. It helped that her department was no longer investigating Richie of shooting a supposedly unarmed teenager. He had been cleared of all charges weeks ago.

At the announcement, everyone's forks froze in place for a split second - time out at the Kowalski dinner table - before they all continued eating.

"So you all knew," she accused then. "I was the _only _one not kept in the loop."

It was not a question, but they answered anyway, stuttering out, "Mom, we just didn't want to worry you," answers. Richie was the only one who turned to Abby.

"Why _are _you being investigated?"

Spotlight on Abby. Five pairs of eyes stared her down. "I'm…" she hesitated, not sure how to explain it, "being investigated for improper relationships with a superior officer." It was the simplest way to put it; the explanation at its barest.

But she was a member of a family of cops, and they weren't dumb. "Which superior officer?" her father demanded immediately. _You don't screw over family for ambition, _he had told her once, but this, she knew, was worse in a way. This was disgraceful, and there was a chance he wouldn't forgive her for it.

She couldn't look at Richie, as she swallowed her last bite of lasagna. "Detective Rodriguez," she said, pushing her chair back and preparing herself to stand at a moment's notice.

"_Fuck," _Donnie said, his eyes swiveling from Richie to their father and back to Abby.

It was silent, then, for a long moment. Abby resolutely stared at the wall, refusing to look at them. They wanted to interrogate her? Fine. She wasn't going to make it easy though.

"The I.A. detective who investigated your brother?" her mother said, betrayal coloring her tone.

Her father corrected her though. "No," he said, "not the initial detective. Rodriguez was the second detective."

And at that, Abby's mother suck in a huge gust of air. Abby understood that reaction. When Richie had first shot that teenage boy, there had been the necessary t's and i's to cross and dot, the normal I.A. interrogation. But just as quickly as those normal hellish interrogations were wrapped up, everything changed.

There was an accusation that Richie's partner had planted the gun, that Richie had shot an unarmed teenager. Murdered a scared, little kid. And that was when I.A. brought in the big guns. Detective Rodriguez investigated Richie for months, following him everywhere. Abby had seen the photos pinned on the bulletin board by Rodriguez's desk. He was digging up dirt on Richie.

It was a personal vendetta, and he interrogated Richie dozens of times, stopped him from getting his life back. It was hell.

There was another beat of silence. Abby could hear the ticking of the kitchen clock, in the other room.

Then: "Get out of my house." Her father stood and pointed towards the door.

"_Don," _her mother gasped, but that was all. She didn't stop him, didn't say Abby should sit back down. In the end, family came first, and Abby had completely fucked that up. They would probably never forgive her, she realized.

Abby was on her feet in an instant and halfway out the room a half a beat afterwards. She sought Richie's eyes, but he wouldn't meet hers. She took in a breath of air. Of course Richie wouldn't look at her. She was sleeping with the enemy; the cop who had personally done everything in his power to ruin Richie's life. Never mind that Richie had his job back now, that the investigation was closed. She wasn't just sleeping with the enemy; she _was _the enemy. Abby left.

It would be weeks before she spoke to her family again.

/

The booze burned as she took it like a shot. _Fuck, _that was a bad idea. Still, she raised her hand, in the universal sign for _I'll have another, _and the bartender didn't deny her. There were four glasses surrounding her.

In the distant part of her mind, Abby was criticizing herself. She looked like a hot mess, and drinking like this wasn't exactly how she spent her spare time.

But now, she had nothing but spare time.

An hour and another glass and a half later, the bartender seemed to notice how much she had drank for the first time and cut her off. She was fumbling through her purse for her wallet, when she noticed her phone's screen was lit up. The bar was so loud; she hadn't heard it ring.

She pulled her phone from the purse and tapped the screen. _Missed Call. _Shit. _Rodriguez. _Shit - fuck - hell. She swore every curse in the book, reaching into her purse, and throwing a fistful of money on the counter. It was probably too much or too little, but that didn't really matter.

She strode - _stumbled - _from the bar and was out the door in an instant. In the back alleyway that the bar let out in, she took a deep breath, smoothed her hair, and was about to dial him back, when a figure approached her in the darkness. She reached instantly for her gun, only to remember that she didn't have one anymore. She backed up instinctively, preparing herself to scream, to _fight, _but she was so goddamn drunk, that she knew she wouldn't stand a chance, especially not when another two shadows appeared.

Abby closed her eyes for a half second, in what she realized might have been a paranoid prayer, and when she opened them again, she saw Steve, Donnie, and Richie staring at her. There was a baffling exchange of looks between them, that might have been something like concern, but no, that wasn't possible. They didn't care anymore, couldn't possibly. She had betrayed them, after all. "Hell," she slurred. "You scared the crap out of me."

She wouldn't realize it until the next morning, but she was the picture of a falling-down drunk. Her brothers noticed though. "Abby," Steve said, moving forward to support her. Donnie followed suit immediately and, suddenly, the whole walking thing wasn't her own responsibility anymore.

She didn't remember a lot of what happened next. Suddenly, she was in her apartment, having her shoes pulled off, and being tucked into bed.

Sleep tight.

/

"She hasn't returned any of Mom's calls!" Donnie.

"They're saying she slept her way to the top." Steve.

"She's been at that bar every night for a week!" Steve again.

"She doesn't even like alcohol, for Christ's sake!" Donnie.

"What the hell is going on with her?" Richie.

At that last one, Abby's eyes flickered open. "Yell louder, why don't you?" she said, slamming her eyes shut again, upon seeing the bright light streaming in through her window.

They were quiet then, and she heard her blinds being closed. Hesitantly, Abby opened her eyes again to see her three brothers looking at her with a mixture of sheepishness and concern. "Abby," Richie began, but she interrupted him with a wave of the hand.

Hand covering her closed mouth, she got up and ran to the bathroom. Well, that was one way to avoid a confrontation.

/

Afterwards, there _was _a conversation, in which Donnie and Steve listed a plethora of evidence to prove that she wasn't acting normally. It lasted for only ten minutes or so, but it seemed more like a lifetime.

Then, quietly: "Why did you start dating Rodriguez?" Abby looked at Donnie, through her hazy, hang-over eyes, and felt her own eyes widen.

Letting out a swear, she jumped from the bed and reached for her cell phone. In the middle of pressing _two _on her speed dial, she walked from the room.

"I'm sorry I didn't call you back last night," she said, her voice tight with control.

She heard Donnie swear and Steve scoff, and by the time she got done apologizing to her _boyfriend _for missing his calls, they were both gone. She walked back to her bedroom, feeling sick and saying, "Yeah, I'll see you tonight," to him.

In the corner of her room, she saw Richie with a completely unfathomable expression in his eyes. He left quietly, but said before he was gone, "You wouldn't do this to family. I _know _that."

It was said with such resolve that Abby wondered, for a moment, if he suspected what was really going on. Because of course she wouldn't sleep with someone who had attacked her family. She may have screwed over her family for ambition and this job, but I.A. had never personally tried to _ruin _her family before. She would never, _ever _side with the monster who had ruined her brother's life.

And yet, here they were.

/

"What I don't understand," Donnie said, the next time he confronted her, this time on the roof of her building during a punching bag marathon, "is why they would investigate you for this."

"What?" she asked, baffled. She lowered her fists and turned away from the bag. Donnie stood, but she walked uncomfortably a few feet back and leaned against the wall.

"If you were sleeping with your boss, which I don't even think Rodriguez really is, even if he does have seniority, they would just write you up and transfer you. Maybe put a note in your file, or demote you a position."

Abby looked at the blue sky. She liked hanging out on the roof. It was normally so peaceful.

"But they didn't. Instead, they've been investigating you for - how long now?" Donnie asked. He looked around the roof, like there was a calendar appearing in mid-air around him.

Abby saw the exact moment that he understood. His mouth formed into a small _o, _and his whole body stiffened for a moment. She looked away.

"Damn," he said.

She thought, for a moment, that that would be all, but instead, he turned and, hand in a fist, leaned back and swung in her direction.

His fist connected with the wall behind her.

/

"Abby," he said, flexing his hand as she reached in the freezer for some ice, "what's going on?"

She was out of ice, but instead, she turned around and shoved a bag of frozen peas on his hand. His knuckles were scraped up pretty badly. He was lucky he hadn't actually broken something. "I… okay, Donnie, look," she stammered. She didn't normally stammer. Ever, really.

"Abby," he said, quietly, hissing at the feel of the ice on his knuckles. "Just start at the beginning." It wasn't an order though, and there was a compassion in his tone. He wasn't Donnie, the cop she had betrayed by joining I.A. He was the same big brother who had protected her from the monsters who had haunted her nightmares the one week she was seven; and he was the same brother who had watched the movie with her that had caused the nightmares.

Lie. Don't lie. Lie.

How could she lie to _Donnie, _her big brother?

Starting at the beginning had never been Abby's style though, so she started with, "Rodriguez's brother was killed by a cop. A dirty one. Or at least one who had no right shooting him."

"That explains… a lot, actually," Donnie said, because it did. It explained why Rodriguez was so personally set on proving Richie guilty, whether he was or not.

"What none of you understand, Donnie, is that working in I.A. is just like any other department. There are grudges and there's revenge, and there's cases that hit you _hard, _and more importantly than that, there's the other cops who _notice._"

Donnie looked at her. "You 'noticed,' didn't you?"

She looked through him. "Yeah. I did."

Right there, she was ready to tell all and ride off into the happy little, family-oriented sunset. But then her phone rang. Startled, Abby reached down for it. "I've got to take this," she said.

Donnie looked down at her phone. _Rodriguez. _"Abby, fuck, let it go to voicemail."

He reached for the phone, trying to take it away from her, like he owned her or something. Like he had any right to tell her what to do.

She snapped, throwing his arm down against the table, taking the phone in one hand and answer it, while physically restraining him with the other. "Rob," she said, "hi."

Donnie looked baffled as she smiled and flirted playfully into the phone. She let go of his hand and indicated for him to leave.

After a few minutes, he walked out of the room, so she thought he had and sighed deeply.

"Dinner, tomorrow? Sure." Click. Conversation over. The smile slid off her face like rain off a windbreaker.

There was Donnie, leaning in the doorway. "You traded, didn't you?"

"What?" she said. She placed her phone down on the counter, reached for a hair tie on it, and pulled her hair into a messy pony tail.

"Or he blackmailed you. Whatever."

Stiffly, Abby said, "I don't know what you mean."

"Date him - sleep with him - and he'll drop the investigation," he said.

Stated in plain fact like that, Abby thought she might vomit. She wasn't some Law and Order: SVU case though, and this was the real world. "It's not rape," she protested.

"I didn't say it was," Donnie replied, looking a bit disgusted at that potential scenario.

"And I didn't just agree to it," she hurried to say, "immediately. I waited. But then, he said he was going to arrest Richie, but that if I took him on his offer - the stupid one he had made, like, a day into me meeting him, he wouldn't follow up on the case."

Abby remembered his stupid arrogant smirk, like there wasn't even a question. Of course she would want to sleep with him. Of course she would want to date him. Of course, of course, of course. But she hadn't. She had actually told him to go screw himself.

But then, there was her mother sobbing to her over the phone, and her father refusing to speak to her because she was _one of them, _and her brothers avoiding her when they ran into her at the hotdog vendor. And then there was Richie, oh, poor Richie, and the bags under his eyes, and the three days worth of shadow on his face, and the disheveled uniform, and the fact that he cried to her - who the whole family hated - about how he thought there was a possibility - "Jesus Christ, Abby, what if he's right?" - that he had murdered that poor, innocent boy.

And then there were the arrest orders. He had enough evidence, supposedly. And, he said with an equally flirtatious and evil smile, it was sad that it had to come to this. If only he had better things to occupy his time with.

It had baffled her, his desire to sleep with her. What had happened to revenge? To paying back all dirty cops for what had happened to his own brother? But she looked around the office, the office that was torturing her brother, and agreed.

"So I agreed."

He looked at her.

"But I swear to God, Donnie, I don't know how word got out. I have _no _fucking idea why this all got dredged up again, and that's why I can't ignore his calls, because if I do, then maybe he'll think our deal doesn't count anymore, maybe he'll -" she choked on the words.

And then, he stopped her, physically raising his bloodied hand, in the universal symbol for _shut up. _"Jesus, Abby. You think the investigation against Richie was your fault."

"That's ridiculous," Abby retorted, immediately, even though, yeah, she kind of did.

A pause. A look. Then, Donnie said, "It's not, Abby. This is not some kind of cosmic balance. You joining I.A. had nothing to do with Richie shooting that kid or getting investigated for it."

"But," Abby said, bile in her throat, "if this investigation pops back up again, it'll kill Richie."

The look in his eyes when he was proven innocent. When they told her little brother that he could sleep easy again. That he had nothing to feel badly about, and sure that wasn't exactly true. He still lost some sleep. But at least he wasn't a _murderer. _

"Abby, are you out of your fucking mind? If I.A. is investigating you, then they already know or at least suspect. Right?"

"Yeah," she said. It was the real reason why she was being investigated. For suspicions that she had gotten her brother out of charges. She was dirty, didn't believe in real justice. Was willing to do anything to clear her brother, even if it meant demeaning herself.

"So why keep up the act? Tell them he blackmailed and coerced you. You'll get off, and that bastard will go _down._"

"I'm the new detective," Abby said. "He's been with the department for fifteen years."

"But I.A. works towards the truth," Donnie said. It was almost like he was pleading with her. "They'll work towards the truth."

"And if I tell them _that _truth, then the investigation against Richie will reopen," Abby snapped back. She whirled around, pacing to the other side of the room. "Do you want that?"

"No," Donnie said. "Of course not."

It was an impasse, one that couldn't be breached by arguments. In the end, they were both on the same side, after all.

Family first. Always.

Donnie understood that, and so would Steve and her parents. But one thing was certain. "Don't tell Richie."

Donnie looked at her and said, "Of course not."

She took the melted bag of peas from him and walked towards her freezer. Once she turned back around, she caught him staring at her.

"It's not right," Donnie said, "what Rodriguez is doing to you."

Her face flushed. The way he said it made her sound so helpless. Like a victim.

"Abby," he said, and she met his eyes. "It's _not." _

And for some odd reason, Abby believed him, but that didn't change anything. That teenage boy was still dead, Richie was still traumatized, and the rest of the family would still never understand what she had done.

For now, it was enough that Donnie did.

/

**Author's Note: **I envision one more chapter to this story, though I do believe that this can stand-alone as an open-ended one shot. (For those curious, the title inspiration will be explained later. I didn't just pick the most generic word.)


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _So, I watched the episode that chapter one was inspired by. And huh, when I watched the preview for it the week before and thought to myself, "Wait, did that guy just say he'd drop Richie's case with Abby if she slept with him?", I never _actually _thought that I had heard the preview correctly. I just decided to write a fic about it anyway, but it turns out I had heard correctly. Though the show, obviously, didn't choose to go this route with the plotline. Oh, and since we hadn't really met much of Carl Scott (creepy dude investigating Richie), before this week's episode, I didn't really have a name or characterization for him. So, no, Detective Rodriguez (of this story) isn't met to have the same characterization of Carl Scott; he's far creepier. Consider this story an AU of the potential plotline. Abby's family doesn't forgive her as easily; she doesn't take down the scummy sexual harasser with a tape recorder.

And here we are with the second chapter, which is heavily inspired by the events of _The Fifth Body _episode, and the previews for next week's episode.

**/**

**Chapter Two**

**/**

Secrets never stayed hidden for long. A lifetime of cop stories had taught Abby that, so she wasn't sure why she was surprised when, two weeks after Donnie found out her secret, the gossip about her and Rodriguez became more specific. She wasn't just "sleeping her way to the top" and I.A. wasn't just investigating her anymore.

Flores, her partner, had been the one to give her the courtesy call. Though they hadn't been partners for long enough to develop any sort of real friendship, there was a loyalty there.

"Kowalski," Abby answered her phone, even though that level of exact professionalism hadn't been required of her since the day she had been asked to hand in her badge, pending an investigation. I.A. wasn't like the other departments; one whiff of a dirty cop and you were going, going, gone.

"It's Flores. Just thought you should know, I saw Rodriguez in one of the interrogation rooms today." Her voice was curt and too the point, and yet, behind it all, there was a hint of warmth.

Abby swallowed. "Oh."

"I - look, I was never sure what had happened with you guys, but I just thought you should know," Flores said then. And there - right there - Abby could identify the emotion. It was something like hurt, hurt that she hadn't trusted Flores enough to confide in her, perhaps.

"Look -" Abby started, in something that may have resembled an apology.

But no. "Just …" she said with hesitance, "be careful, Kowalski."

"Flores," Abby said, her voice choked up with the emotion of a friendship she had never really had the privilege of having, "thanks."

"No problem," Flores said, even though it probably was.

And just like that, Flores was gone, and Abby was alone in her apartment again. She looked at the main screen of her phone, knowing that just a few moments ago it had shown Flores' photo ID: the picture of the two of them eating hot dogs outside the station. Abby had passed her phone to some rookie cop and had them take the photo.

It had almost been like being friends. It occurred to Abby now that it had been a long time since she had had any friends. Where had they all gone? Those friendships had been lost in the hours she had been spending with Rodriguez, the hours she had been hiding at the bar.

Pacing around her apartment, Abby - for the first time in a long time - realized how angry she was. She wasn't pitiful or a victim. She was pissed.

She circled her apartment three times before it all went to hell with the ring of her cell phone. "Rob," she said. It always felt strange, his first name coming from her lips, but he had insisted that she not call him Rodriguez anymore.

"Baby," he said, "I'm outside your place."

Her heart clenched for a moment. A big breath, unclench, and then, "Oh?" There. That seemed like a simply curious tone. At least, she hoped so.

A pause. She could hear his breathing over the phone, that hell about to break loose harsh breathing pattern she had grown accustomed to. "Well, are you going to let me come up?"

Here was her opportunity, right here, to yell and scream and flip him off, but she found her anger burrowing itself deep, hiding to a place where it could be safe. Being angry now would not do anyone, least of all Richie, any good.

A Stepford wife smile inserted itself on her face. "Sure." And she did just that, hoping that this time would be different.

But it wasn't.

/

So a little while after that, she was booted off the cop's flag football team. It wasn't that she was ridiculously insulted, even though she had been a major part of their victories over the past year. It was more the way that her own brother's refused to meet her eyes when she passed them in the stairwell.

It was Barry who told her she was off the team, some random person that she knew solely from practices. He mumbled into his feet, and she said, "Wait, what?"

Her nostrils flared, and she put that metaphorical armor on, preparing for battle. But behind the guys was Richie, staring right through her, Steve staring at Richie, and Donnie looking at her. "Alright, Barry," she said.

Barry seemed grateful that she didn't argue, leading the group of five guys from the team out of the stairwell. Donnie, last in line, gave her a little pat on the shoulder, but that was it.

Abby was out of the group, off the team, and she was the only one who cared. Turning around, she faced the stairwell wall and smacked her hand into it. It didn't have the same satisfaction of punching brick, but it was close enough.

/

The morning of the game, she headed to the park and watched from the shadows of the trees as her team faced the firefighter's. Once upon a time, she probably would have bribed her way onto one of those teams somehow, baked some cupcakes and charmed her way into playing. Abby had always wanted to be one of the boys.

But times were different now.

Twenty or so minutes into the game, a gust of wind ran through her mother's hair, so she turned around. Abby watched as her mother caught sight of her, opened her mouth to yell hello, then quieted upon realizing that no one - maybe not even herself - wanted to speak to Abby.

From her pocket, her phone rang.

"This is Abby," she answered, finally putting her _Kowalski _salutation to rest.

She turned her back to the game, her heart thumping in her chest, missing her mother turning back to wave at her (finally saying to hell with her family forcing her to isolate herself from her daughter). "One o'clock tomorrow?" she asked. It was an Internal Affairs officer, some young-sounding person she had never met, named Jacobs. "Of course. I'll be there." To be questioned and have her case reviewed. They had made progress, in the weeks she had been away.

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Abby bent over, putting her hands on her knees. She was having an odd amount of trouble breathing, and the outside realm of her vision seemed to be tunneling a bit. One breath. That was all she needed.

In -

"Abby!" The call came from behind her, and it sounded like her mother. Damn it; she had probably turned around and seen her daughter's distress. And there it was; the sound of hustling feet moving towards her.

- and out.

There; that breathing thing wasn't so difficult. Standing up again, Abby planted a smile on her face, covering up the wooziness.

"Abby," her mother said, right next to her now.

"Mom," she greeted.

"Are you alright? You looked like you were about to collapse," her mother said. Abby turned to face her and saw her father looking up at the two of them from a few yards away. He had hurried with his wife, it seemed, then left them to have their space. The game was still going on, but slowly, she realized that Donnie, Richie, and Steve weren't paying attention to it. Their mother's call had grabbed their attention and they too were staring up at them.

"Jesus, Mom," she snapped, looking at the scene they had caused.

Her mother turned to see what she was looking at. Then she laughed, said, "Don't worry about them," and reached forward to grab Abby's arm. Abby _flinched. _Her mother dropped her hand from its position midair as fast as if she had been burned. "Abby?" her mother breathed.

"I have to go," she said, whirling around and striding down the field. It wasn't that she didn't want to talk to her mother, but she just _couldn't. _ Richie's future depended on her keeping her mouth shut.

But that wasn't enough for her family; of course it wasn't. The sound of hurrying footsteps told Abby that her mother was following her. Then, another set of footsteps. Halfway out of the park, she turned around and said to her parents, "For the love of God, go watch your sons play football. I'm not here to bother you. You wanted me out of your life, you got it." It wasn't the scream she had planned on, but rather an exhausted request. Her father hadn't wanted her in their home, feeling betrayed by her new relationship. Let him think that. It was easier this way.

The footsteps stopped, and Abby made her way down the street. Alone.

/

Time passed slowly that night, with Abby rolling back and forth in her bed. It was difficult to sleep, knowing that tomorrow would determine _everything. _Was the arrangement still a secret?

Did she still want it to be?

/

Her alarm, set for eight in the morning, did not wake her. Instead, at seven thirty, she woke with a start to what sounded like her door being broken down. Mimicking her post-nightmare stance, she sat rod-straight up in bed. She reached for her service-firearm, only to remember that she didn't have it anymore. _Fuck, _she thought. She rolled out of bed, landing on her feet, and hurried past the door to grab a heavy lamp.

The sound of her hurrying footsteps seemed to have prompted the potential-robber into calming. "Abby?" she heard the man behind the door call.

She let go of the lamp and hurried to the door. "_Richie?" _She opened the door. "What's wrong?"

He had bags under his eyes and a tense look in his face. He pushed past her and walked straight into her bedroom.

"Whoa, Richie," she said, as he looked behind her closet door and stuck his head under her bed. "What the hell is going on?"

Her father or mother in a car accident. Steve, Donnie - injured. The reasons for a desperate, panicked early-morning knock on her door were endless for Abby.

He searched every corner of her room and then turned around to face her. There was an odd emotion in his eyes, a desperation there that made Abby's stomach reside in her throat for a moment.

"You're _sleeping _with him!" he accused.

She had heard of delayed reactions, but Jesus, it had taken him a long time to come to terms with her 'relationship' with Rodriguez. "Richie, you've known this for weeks."

"Not _that," _he said with a scoff. "Christ, Abby, I mean Brody!"

Abby froze for a moment. On the list of things nowadays that she didn't want people to find out, Brody hardly even made the list. Still, after a moment, she accused, "You were looking to see if he was _here?_"

"No," Richie said. "I was looking to see if _Rob -" _and yes, that was a hint of bitterness she detected, as he mockingly said Rodriguez's first name - "was here."

Abby thought, for a laughably long moment, that she might vomit. "You wanted to see Rodriguez?"

"No!" Brody said. "I don't want to see him." He floundered for a moment with his angry speech. Then, regaining momentum, he moved towards her with one large step. "What the _hell _were you thinking, Abby?"

"What?" she asked stupidly.

"Sleeping with my _partner, _Abby. Why the fuck would you sleep with Brody?" Brody shouted.

At that, Abby stood up a little straighter. Ready for battle. "First of all, I'm no longer involved with Brody," she said. "And it's none of your business that I was."

"None of my business?" Richie sputtered. "He's my _partner._"

"And I'm your sister, who's a grown woman," she countered. "I'm capable of making my own decisions. My relationship with Brody hardly affected yours - before this _charming_ incident, after all." Her voice was strong; she was a detective again. Strong. Capable.

"You think your actions don't affect me?" he asked.

Lying, Abby nodded anyway.

"You sleep with Rodriguez, who made my life _hell, _and before that, you sleep with Brody, my _partner." _Richie shook his head. "What is the matter with you?"

Chin raised in defiance, Abby said, "My relationships are none of your business."

"You're not talking to our entire family because of Rodriguez, and you don't think it's any of my business?" he said, seeming almost baffled by her attitude. His tone, while still accusatory, was softer now.

Abby looked right through him, ghost that she was, and nodded.

"Mom misses you," Richie said.

A lump found its way into Abby's throat.

"And so does Dad and Donnie and Steve and hell, even me," Richie continued. With a soft laugh, he said, "Brody does too. That's how I found out. He was drunk as hell, going on about how he missed you."

Swallowing, Abby opened her mouth to speak. Expectantly, Richie paused and waited. But she just _couldn't _explain. "I need to go to work," she said.

Taken aback, Richie clearly said the first thing that came to his mind. "They reinstated you?"

"No," she said. "I'm meeting with them to discuss my case."

Anger clearly placed aside for now, Richie whistled. "It's been over a month. What's taking them so long? My investigation was shorter than this one, and I was still allowed to go to work."

"I'm in Internal Affairs," Abby said stiffly. "We don't mess around with dirty cops. It would destroy the very meaning of what we do."

"But you're not a dirty cop," Richie said. "A stubborn idiot, maybe, but not a dirty cop."

Abby ignored his statement, turned away from him, and walked out of her bedroom. "I need to get ready," she reiterated, moving towards her bathroom.

"Abby," he said.

She turned to face him. There was a draft in her apartment, and she suddenly realized how cold she was in her sleep shorts and tank top.

"If things don't work out with you and Rodriguez," he said reluctantly, "I'm sure Brody would give you another chance."

She tried to smile, but it came out like a grimace. Shaking her head, she and Richie said in unison, "Nah."

Richie turned to leave, and she said suddenly, "Richie. He's a good guy. I'm sorry for how I handled that."

Facing her, he shrugged. "Well, I'm sure he wasn't perfect either."

And then, she was alone. She showered quickly, crying in the shower as she washed the horribleness of the last few weeks off of herself. Already, singing a little as she blow-dried her hair, she felt lighter.

Richie seemed to have forgiven her, and from the sounds of it, her parents were close to that point too. Maybe it didn't matter what happened in the meeting.

Maybe, just maybe, she would be okay, even if she couldn't be the female cop of her family of law enforcement anymore. Abby could just be a daughter and a sister.

Standing in front of her closet, Abby looked at the long line of suits she wore to work. Buried in the back, there was even one of her old patrol uniforms.

Even if she wasn't going to be reinstated, she couldn't ruin this for Richie. He _loved _what he did; it was in his blood, just like it was in hers.

She got dressed slowly and stiffly, ignoring a few bruises, and trying to make herself resemble a professional. It wasn't that she didn't love her job, it was just that this - this feeling right here - was why most people became cops. They wanted to help people, protect the public.

Abby had wanted to do what he father and brothers did, and she had wanted to solve crime. The helping people thing, _sure _it was a nice perk, but she hadn't - before this whole debacle - really felt such a burning, desperate desire to do the right thing before. This was why people went into law enforcement.

Abby finally - even with her weapon and detective title temporarily striped from her - felt like a real cop.

_/_

_Author's Note: Did I imply this would be the last chapter? Whoops. It got away from me there. Next chapter will definitely be the last. Hope you liked this one._


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: _I hope you all enjoy the final chapter of _Cop. _A big thanks to all of you who reviewed, as you inspired me to go farther with this story than I had ever really planned. I'm really addicted to watching _Against the Wall _now, so it's great to know that there are fellow fans out there.

**/**

**Chapter Three **

**/**

Abby walked into the Internal Affairs wing hesitantly at quarter of one. She had lost that new, prodigy-like detective spring from her step. Keeping her eyes focused directly in front of her, she missed the looks that some of her coworkers were exchanging upon seeing her. Had she seen them, perhaps her reaction upon entering the interrogation room would have been different.

Instead, she entered the room, saw a detective - Jacobs she presumed - and moved forward to shake his hand. He returned the greeting and said, "Hello, Detective Kowalski."

Abby sat down abruptly, almost falling into the chair. It wasn't that she nervous, she told herself, except _yeah, _she was nervous.

"Jacobs," she greeted him stiffly. She tried to cover up her nerves with a smile, the lightness she had grown used to carrying herself with.

Judging by his expression, she wasn't succeeding. With a smile inclination of the head, he asked her, "Is your union rep not accompanying you today?"

It wasn't procedure to encourage a cop to have their union rep, that would be the equivalent of begging a murder suspect to call in their lawyer for their interrogation. Taken aback, Abby shook her head. No, she didn't want a union rep, advising her not to incriminate herself, advising her to blame the whole thing on Rodriguez, advising her to sell her brother out and let the whole truth come out. She was going to stay strong and protect her family. A union rep wouldn't care about that.

"Alright then," Jacobs said. With a nod of the head, he began. "Why don't you tell me about your relationship with Detective Rodriguez?"

She had been here before, played this game, done this dance the first time around. The first interrogation, she had been taken by surprise and had reflexively denied the relationship. Within minutes, they had shown her a photo taken of the two of them out at a restaurant - yes, she remembered that night, their first "date" . It was a pixel-filled, blurry photo, probably taken by some rookie cop on their crappy cell phone, someone trying to discredit her, but it was _enough. _She had folded that time around, only admitting to casually going on one date that time. It was enough to have her suspended though, enough to fuel the fire of the investigation.

"We're in a relationship," was what she said this time. The truth was out, and it would be ridiculous to deny it. It would only further their case against her.

"And how long has this relationship been going on?" Jacobs asked then, his hand poised over the file folder on the table. He flipped the page.

Had she mentioned this last time around? She couldn't remember. That was the problem with lying; you had to have a good memory. "For several weeks," she settled on. It was vague enough. She felt herself growing warm. The room seemed small, cramped. She felt herself growing paranoid, certain she had heard a noise outside the room, as though there were people watching her.

Jacobs must have noticed her discomfort, as he looked up from his file and offered her a drink. It was strange though, not said with the tone of a detective interrogating a suspect. He addressed her like a colleague, like they were on the same side.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears uncomfortably. "Sure." And oddly, he went up to get the drink himself, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

These last few months had changed Abby. The first time she had been questioned, she had handled herself with the finesse of a detective who had received the highest score of her class. Fielding questions, she had feigned innocence and adopted her poker face, like she was a paid actress. This time, she fumbled like a rookie crook, screaming out to be arrested.

Abby wasn't sure where this interrogation was going, but more importantly, she wasn't sure where she wanted it to go. What was her story? Goddamn it, she had had weeks to make something up! Why hadn't she thought of anything to say?

The door to the room opened and she tried to school her features. It wasn't Jacobs though. Abby felt herself grow pale, and then turn bright red within a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded of Donnie.

He was dressed in his work clothes - the definition of a cop. Before he even had a chance to answer, the door opened again, and Flores entered. Waddling slightly, Flores entered.

At first, Abby was baffled by her ex-partner's presence. But then - Flores met her eyes. And beneath the greetings of an old almost-friend, and the awkwardness of the situation, beneath all of that, there was _something _in Flores's eyes.

Abby felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She turned to her brother, in what felt like slow motion. She breathed out the words, "What have you done?"

Donnie opened his mouth and then closed it again.

She stood in a solid, strong motion, the chair screeching on the linoleum floors. "Donnie, what did you _do?_"

She couldn't breathe. The room around her began to look - not faded out - but like it was underwater. Abby was swimming underwater.

She sank into the chair. And suddenly, she blinked, and the world swam back into focus. Donnie and Flores were exchanging looks of concern, standing much closer to her than they had a moment before.

"I want my union rep," she said. Flores closed her eyes and winced, but Donnie, well, Donnie looked utterly betrayed. "Get out." It was the only way to be left alone when in interrogation, but it didn't work, and he wouldn't leave.

"Abby," he rasped. "Please, wait. Just listen."

Flores slipped out of the room, but Donnie stood there. Donnie, who had told her secret to Flores. Donnie, who had betrayed her. Donnie, who was going to ruin Richie's career, Richie's sanity.

"Get the fuck out," she said, her voice an equal mix of a snarl and an exhausted cry. It made Abby lose her edge, she realized.

He stood his ground, refusing to leave, but she refused to back down. Abby finally felt like her old self again. "I mean it, Donnie."

"I know you do," he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made her despise him. "There's something you need to know though, and we're going to talk."

"_Here?_" she demanded. "Here's where you want to talk? We haven't spoken in weeks, and you want to talk to me here, while I'm being interrogated? You really have great timing."

"Jacobs turned off the recording, Flores is guarding the door, and there's no one watching, Abby. Chill out," Donnie said. Upon receiving no response to that, he moved forward, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

"Why would Jacobs do that?" she said so lowly, she almost whispered.

"Because he's a rookie cop that admires our family, and he thinks the charges against you are crap," Donnie responded. Sheepishly, he continued, "And I may have threatened to blackmail him."

She took in that information, cleared her throat, and ran her hand over the back of her neck in tiredness. "What are you doing here, Donnie?"

"You need to tell him the truth."

"No," she said simply.

He had been expecting that, she could tell by the slight sigh of annoyance he let out. "Did you really think that I was just going to drop this whole thing, Abby? That's you'd just tell me -"

She silenced him with a panicked look. Was he seriously going to voice what had happened here, even if he thought the room was secure? The walls had ears here; he was cop, he should know better.

"What you told me," he continued a beat later, clearly just appeasing her, "and I wouldn't investigate? I wouldn't try to help you?"

She leaned back in her chair in shock. It wasn't that Abby didn't trust her brothers to care for her, it wasn't she thought he'd just do nothing, except, _yeah, _she thought he was just going to do nothing, if she being honest.

Sure, the next day, she had expected something, even the whole next week. But after that, Abby had just figured that he was honoring her wishes.

Apparently not.

"If you tell him the truth, if you confirm what we've proven, then it will all be _fine," _Donnie said.

There was something about his wording, something about the way he shifted in his seat a little bit that peaked Abby's interest. "What you've proven?"

Donnie pulled out a twice folded newspaper article from his pocket. It was old, faded, torn around the edges, and it was, Abby observed with a whistle, both damning for Rodriguez and horrifying to her.

"Are you out of your mind? This is exactly what I don't want to come out," she said. "Why would you think this was a good idea?' She ran her fingers across the newspaper article, feeling the old _paper_, the dustiness of some ancient archive, and what it meant that her brother had found this article.

He looked sheepish and fiddled with his collar.

"You _didn't!_" Abby shouted, knowing what it meant.

"Well," he floundered. _"I _wasn't the one who told Richie. That was actually Brody." He held his hands up in the universal sign to _just wait a sec. _"He realized I was being weird, and one day, when all of us were hanging out together, he looked through my bag. He probably thought I was like, hiding an affair or something ridiculous, but he saw my research, and he realized what was going on, and he told Richie, like, the same day."

Abby's head was spinning. "Why would he do that?"

Donnie smirked a little. "I actually don't think he realized Richie didn't know. He was kind of pissed off, kept going on about how could Richie do this to you?"

"Ah," she said, imagining the scene. Brody shoving her brother against the wall, probably having drunk a little too much after a Kowalski family gathering, accusatory as hell. Her brother's eyes, wide and shocked.

Donnie gave her a moment to ponder that and then said, "Richie wants you to tell the truth. In fact, he's a bit furious that you haven't already. I had to stop him from coming here himself."

"He's mad?" she said, the words feeling foreign. "He's _mad?_ Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Well, not at you, really. Just… yeah, he's mad."

"_Why _is he mad? I was just protecting him."

"He didn't want to be protected," Donnie said. "Not like this, at least. He was… horrified." Donnie tried to put it delicately, but Abby saw what he was saying. What "horrified" meant. It meant that she, Abby, was one of the stories you read about in the paper, something to be turned into some cop-drama episode, because she was the definition of a horrifying case. A weak victim. "It doesn't have to go like this, though, Abby."

"Why not? This article, my accusations, all it will do is get him a couple weeks without pay and a note in his file, and his cases investigated by a new set of detectives. It means Richie being interrogated again."

"Or it means him going away for sexual misconduct, for blackmail, for a whole slue of crimes. It means this isn't going to happen to anyone else, and it means Richie gets to know that he is _actually _innocent, not that his baby sister was practically raped every night to save him from repercussions for a crime he didn't commit."

Abby slammed her eyes shut at the word _rape. _It wasn't like that, she wanted to cry out. They went to the movies, to restaurants, to her apartment - where he shoved her and held her arms so tight he left bruises, and to where he took a part of her that she couldn't ever steal back from him.

_Fuck. _She wasn't a typical rape victim, but she was a victim of sorts, and that was the most horrifying thing of all.

Abby felt bile rise in her throat. "But they have enough to arrest Richie," she said, her eyes barely open, her soul bared open to this new truth that she had defined for herself. Abby Kowalski. Sister, cop, victim. Those three roles couldn't possibly exist together - and yet, they did.

Donnie looked baffled. "They can't possibly," he said. "He didn't do it."

"No!" she said, her voice raising. Fury sparked around her vision. "Fuck you, Donnie, if you think that I thought Richie did this, if I really believed that it was better to skirt around the law then let him be proven innocent. But Rodriguez told me they had an arrest warrant prepared, that he would bury it if I slept with him."

Abby realized she hadn't told Donnie all of the story the last time, only the bare details, simply reliving the rest in her mind. She hadn't told him about the arrest warrant, hadn't wanted to burden him with the knowledge that their brother really had committed the crime he had been accused of, or that they at least had enough to arrest him for it.

"Abby," Donnie said simply, looking vaguely sick himself, "Rodriguez _lied_."

Abby closed her eyes. Now that Donnie said it, she didn't question it. Of course Rodriguez had lied, _of course _he had. How had it not occurred to her in all these months to look for an actual warrant, to steal Richie's file? (She realized now that that was what Donnie was holding.) How had she never once, never in all this time, thought that this whole thing had started, this whole goddamn debacle had started because of a _lie_?

Rodriguez had done this before. That was what the article had said, that some cop in Mexico had been arrested for blackmailing a colleague. The name was different, the hair color, the department he was in, but Abby recognized the photo. He had done this before, it was proven, and no one would call her a liar.

But, how could she have been so _stupid_?

Her brother would never, ever shoot an innocent kid, but here Abby had been, with that accusation in her mind, with an I.A. detective telling her that Richie had done it, with justice is always served, and I.A. finds the truth, and what if Richie had murdered that kid?

But he hadn't, and all of this had been for _nothing._

"Donnie," she said helplessly. "I just…I wanted to…" She couldn't articulate it. She had wanted to make it up to her family, that she had betrayed them by joining I.A. She wanted Richie to be able to sleep at night. She wanted to undo this crime by him. She wanted her parents to be able to be proud of Richie. She wanted to be proud of herself, to be a protector. Abby wanted a thousand things, and she couldn't even say one of them.

"Abby," Donnie said, "I _know._"

She looked at him and realized that he _did _know, he understood everything. He understood what it meant to be a cop, what it meant to be apart of the Kowalski clan, what it meant to be so goddamn lost that you weren't sure if you'd ever find your way again.

Donnie looked through the two-way mirror and nodded. The door to the interrogation room opened, and Flores waddled in. She sat down, and the two of them joined her. Flores let out an odd sort of half smile, half grimace. "Abby," she said.

"Lina," Abby said, and that first name basis slid off of her tongue like it was natural, like this was her friend sitting across from her and not just a colleague, but it was only a _friend _who would help her like this.

Donnie looked from the two of them and said, "Abby, _please _help us take this bastard down."

Abby closed her eyes, grimaced slightly, then opened them again. "Richie's going to be interrogated. So are dozens of criminals that might get out because of this."

"Rodriguez can't be allowed to do this to anyone else," Lina said. She put her hand on her stomach, perhaps subconsciously.

"Rodriguez," Donnie said, spitting the name like it was a curse, "can't be allowed to do this to _you _anymore."

"You're _sure," _Abby said, looking right through the two of them, "that Richie didn't do this."

"Yes."

Abby looked at the file that they had. It was right there in black and white. Cleared of all suspicions. Richie was innocent. It was a weight off of Abby's heart.

She nodded. "Alright."

The two of them breathed a sigh of relief and called Jacobs back in. Jacobs, nervous rookie that he was, swallowed nervously, and sat down. He reached for a tape recorder.

"I'm ready to tell you everything," Abby said. There, interrogated by her partner, colleague, and brother, she helped catch a criminal, prove Richie's freedom (for real this time), and break herself all the way down.

When it was all done, she walked out of the interrogation room and strode out of the office and the building. She rose her chin high, and realized she was _innocent, _and so was Richie, and all of this was finally ending_. _

It was time for the build back up.

**End.**

_Author's Note Again: Hope you enjoyed the story. I imagine a semi-happy, if difficult "build back up" for Abby, and I hope I conveyed that in this final chapter. I'd love to know what you think, so please review._


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